


Dreams of You (Are Always the Brightest)

by patroclusandachilles (echelonlove)



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Angst, Depression, I'm a horrible person, M/M, sorry about making grantaire miserable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echelonlove/pseuds/patroclusandachilles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire turned towards the wall so that Enjolras would not see the slight quiver of his lower lip. "Without you, all I am is dead."</p><p>"I'm sorry." Enjolras slipped out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams of You (Are Always the Brightest)

Grantaire tossed back another shot of whiskey. The alcohol burned down his throat and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He slammed the small glass onto the counter and demanded "Another round!" from the bartender.

"I think you've had enough, buddy."

Grantaire laughed. "Enough? I'll never have enough. There isn't enough in the whole world!" He laughed and laughed and laughed until he fell hard on the floor. "Ha! Oops. My bad." He tried to use the chair to drag himself back up, but he was too drunk. All of his movements were slow and choppy. "Maybe I'll just stay down here awhile," he conceded, slumping against hard chair legs.

"Look," the bartender came around to the front of the bar and shook his finger in Grantaire's face. "If you can't act civilized, you need to get out of my bar. Now."

Grantaire followed the shaking finger with his eyes, causing them to cross uncomfortably. "Go away, I'm comfy." He swatted at the bartender's hand.

"That's it," the bartender muttered under his breath. He straightened up and nodded to the corner of the room. Two large men walked over and began to hoist Grantaire off of the floor. "You're coming with us," the bigger of the two said.

"Noooo," Grantaire whined. "Please let me stay here. I don't like it out there. People are stupid."

The bartender scoffed. "You're the stupid one, you drunk. I don't want to see you in here again, understand?"

"You suck," was Grantaire's reply.

The security guards carried him all the way to the doorway of the bar, where they placed him back on his feet and shoved him outside. Grantaire stumbled and tripped over the curb, landing with a hard thump in the street. He managed to pull himself out of the road, and collapsed against the bar's outer wall. The warm feeling that came with drinking began to leave him. He was left with the darkness of his demons rising to the surface.

"You're worthless," they taunted.

"What good is believing?" they asked.

"He doesn't love you," they cried.

*****

Grantaire stumbled into his flat late that night. He crashed through the door and fumbled blindly against the wall for the light switch. He couldn't find it. Darkness it was. He inched his way down the black hallway, one hand steadying him against the wall, the other held out for balance.

 

In his haze, he missed his own closed door and went a little too far. His roommate always slept with his door open, causing Grantaire to fall through the hole this left in the wall. He landed on his face, head cracking against the hardwood floor. He groaned in pain.

The noise woke up his roommate, who turned on a bedside lamp and flooded the room with a light that pierced right through Grantaire's throbbing skull. "Turn it off, Enjolras," he whined. "Please. 'S too bright." Unable to muster the energy to move, he remained face to face with the floor.

"Are you drunk?" Enjolras asked. "I thought we had a deal. You don't drink anymore and I won't drag you into my charity projects. Remember that?"

Grantaire nodded as best he could while face down.

Enjolras, realizing Grantaire was not going to move by himself, arose with a sigh. "Typical Grantaire," he complained. "Always coming in drunk. Always needing my help. Why can't you take care of yourself?" He lifted Grantaire and steadied him against his shoulder. "One of these days you aren't going to make it home. Is that what you want?"

Grantaire just burrowed his face into Enjolras's shoulder.

"Annoying, drunk, cynical roommates," Enjolras complained under his breath. "I always have to save your sorry ass from whatever mess you've made of yourself. It's not my job to always pick up the pieces, you know."

They had arrived at Grantaire's room. Enjolras eased the door open and led Grantaire to his bed. Grantaire fell onto it and burrowed into his blankets.

Enjolras covered him up properly and positioned a pillow under his head. "Are you comfortable?"

Grantaire nodded and pulled the blankets closer around himself to attempt to escape into his own little nest. There at least, he was free from the doubts and fears that followed him everywhere else.

Enjolras turned to leave. "Good night, Grantaire," he said at the doorway. "Dream of sweet things."

"Then I'll dream of you," Grantaire answered.

Enjolras stopped. "Grantaire, we talked about this too. I'm not...."

"I'll always dream of you, Apollo. Those dreams are always the brightest."

"Oh, Grantaire," Enjolras shook his head. "You won't ever give up, will you? No matter how many times I tell you to turn away."

Grantaire turned towards the wall so that Enjolras would not see the slight quiver of his lower lip. "Without you, all I am is dead."

"I'm sorry." Enjolras slipped out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Grantaire stared blankly at the wall. This was the part of being drunk he hated the most. The moment when the world gained clarity and he was able to see how little he really meant to those he cared about. He felt a few tears roll coldly down his nose. His sanctuary of blankets and warmth had been invaded by his own self-hatred.

**Author's Note:**

> Angst, so much angst! I'm considering writing a sequel to make it better, but I don't know if I should. I kinda like it this way. On the other hand, I can't stand to leave them this way, so I'll probably be writing more.


End file.
